The Fault in our Stars (DanisnotfireXAmazingPhil Edition)
by Cookiesareyum
Summary: Dan Howell was always convinced that he was going to die because of cancer, to the point where his mother finally concluded that he was depressed and decides to force him into a Weekly Social Care group regardless of his lack of enthusiasm into socializing with absolutely anyone. There, he meets a man named Phil and tries to avoid him as much as possible in fear of hurting him.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This Story has references to Homosexuality although it will mainly focus on friendship. If you are uncomfortable with viewing such content then I recommend that you do not read. Thanks for taking some of your time! ^^;**

Dan P.o.v

Within the 24th upcoming year pf my life my mum decided for me that I had depression. Probably because I never really went outside, talked to anyone and that I spent the majority of my time browsing through the internet to read fanfiction about different ways that I could've died.

Well now I've done it. Death was coming for me, it always was. And I've only come to realise that it was a few years back, when I realised that my lungs weren't working like everyone else's were.

I pushed the wheels forward to make my way towards the Weekly Support group that I was heading towards. I cursed my doctor for recommending this place to my mum, and that now I had to dedicate my time every weeks talking to other people about my cancer issues.

"Make some friends!" My mum yelled from the car.

'Yeah…Like that's gonna happen.' I thought to myself, continuing to make my way towards the centre.

I had a high doubt of making friends here. Especially when I've been living my life as a socially awkward person since around birth. I had a hard enough time trying to talk to the cashier at stores trying to buy something, honestly. A puddle on the floor reflected the contraption that I was sitting in, reminding myself what exactly I _wasn't_ capable of doing right now. It's such a waste of my height to be sitting in a wheelchair. Being 191cm was certainly a gift to some people, and yet it had to be wasted on someone like me; who was probably going to spend the rest of their life sitting and lying down anyway.

I pushed the rough leather on my wheels to move forward, but was immediately jolted back into the seat of my chair.

"Damn." I hissed. "Stuck again."

My wheelchair didn't exactly fulfil the role of 'making my life easier' for me. It always did the job for around a few minutes until getting caught on something again. I never really told my parents about this since it'd be such a waste to spend money on a person who's about to die anyway.

I cranked the palms of my hands on the wheels again, this time moving forward with a lot more ease them usual. At first I was absolutely amazed at myself, feeling like I've just developed super powers in my hands or something in place of my dying lungs.

That is… Until I realised that the wheels were moving on a flat surfaced ground on their own. Was I sitting in some sort of possessed wheelchair or something? I looked back to confirm my suspicions and was proven wrong about the possessed wheelchair thing, but I can't exactly say that I'm disappointed either.

"Thought you needed help." He greeted me with a smile.

Now I was always grateful for anyone who even bothered to help a wheelchair bound person like me, but for someone who actually _smiled_ while doing it; I was extremely grateful. He had the same bleak, depressing emo-like hair that I did, but he suited it; with his matching pale skin and blue eyes, he pretty much was the living version of those emo Myspace guys that I've always wanted to be as a twelve year old.

"Where are you going?" he asked me, making me realise that he was still pushing me somewhere.

"Weekly Support group." I answered, slapping his hands off. "Thanks…But I can make it on my own now."

"Hey wait-!"

In fear of him initiating conversation with me any longer, I just kept pushing my wheels forward as fast as I could until I couldn't hear him anymore. I felt bad, but there was no use getting too attached to a guy like him. Nice guys like him deserve better than to kill time with people like me anyway.

Hearing the inspirational talk and sobbing from outside the door was enough to tell me that I was literally the last to arrive. I just hoped that I wasn't late enough for the guy in charge to call my mother and have her freak out that I was jigging the social group thing or something. I gave a gentle knock with the back of my hand and the door shifted open, reveal a guy in his mid-forties or so and a name tag labelled 'Patrick' on his white shirt.

"I'm assuming that you're Daniel Howell?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. I am Sir." I answered him straightforwardly.

"Well Welcome in, we've only just started!" He said, gesturing me inside.

I waddled in with my wheelchair, and as I was searching for a place to sit, I saw same pair of blue eyes across the room staring dead straight at me. I couldn't look away; it would've been too obvious that I was avoiding him. His hand gestured to an empty space next to him, somehow the gap between his chair and the next being the perfect size for my wheelchair to fit in.

At first I was going to pretend that I didn't see his hand and find a place to sit somewhere else to avoid a direct conversation with the guy again, but then Patrick had to c***block me and offer me the seat next to him _out loud_.

_Well good Shit Patrick. Why. _

A/N: Really hoped you liked that chapter! \^o^/ I would just like to say that this fanfiction was inspired by this video ( watch?v=VBe1vN4iTg8) and that I might continue it only if someones reading it (I cant help but feel like its useless to continue something no one wants to see O~O') Please comment/fav/follow if you liked this chapter so that I know! XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Dan P.o.v**

I sighed and pushed my wheelchair in his direction, resting the contraption in between the gap of his chair and the next. He smiled at me, his blue eyes shining so bright that I nearly had to squint. Sitting next to him felt awkward, considering how coldly I treated him around 15 minutes ago.

"Why did you run away like that before? That was so mean!" He pouted like a disappointed 5 year old, and now that I've realised that he knows only makes my situation even more awkward.

"I…I wasn't running away." I lied. Great job Dan. You could've said something less obvious but instead you just denied the truth.

"So…" The guy turned away, noticing the tense atmosphere that I set up between us. "What's your name? I'm Phillip Lester, 28, if you wanted to know. But you can call me Phil." He continued to beam a smile at me regardless.

"Daniel Howell, 24. But you can call me Dan." I couldn't help but smile back, which he noticed.

Unconsciously, I glanced downwards and noticed the contraption on his leg and started feeling bad. To think that a person who had trouble walking himself; would help someone like me out. He realised that I noticed and joking lifted his leg up slightly.

"Oh this?" He questioned me, I looked away.

"I didn't mean to stare, Sorry."

"It's Okay, It can't be helped. The cancer took my leg away, if you wanted to know."

"At least you can still walk." I commented, sounding a little harsher then I originally intended.

Before he could say anything back, Patrick clapped his hands together to catch everyone's attention. He starts telling us the story of how he pulled through cancer even though he had to sacrifice manhood and now he's telling us about it. Everyone else starts telling their story to the circle about been diagnosed at a young age and the tears begin to fall again. I didn't exactly want to be a part of this, since I was still in a phrase of being as socially awkward as ever, but Phil wasn't taking no for an answer.

"So tell me your story, Dan." He asked me, eyes smiling along with his lips.

"I was diagnosed when I was 17-"

"Don't tell me something like that! That's so depressing."

I raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what everyone's was talking about?"

"Normalness leads to Sadness. Tell me something that's more about _you_ and not about your disease."

I looked at Patrick, almost as if I was asking for permission and he nodded. Then I started, I never thought that I'd be able to talk about my feelings and dreams with so many people in a room but I was. I told them how I wanted to be an Emo when I was 12, how much I've been embarrassing myself my entire life and they all laughed. Literally everyone was crying tears of laughter over depression, and something about that made my heart lit up.

"So now that we know about what you were doing before, what are you now?" Phil asks me, still grinning from laughing.

"Well… I guess I make YouTube videos sometimes."

"Really?! I make YouTube videos too! My username's AmazingPhil, what's yours?!" He said excitingly, I guess it was pretty rare to meet a fellow YouTube in a room where people did nothing but pity each other.

I opened my mouth and was about tell him, but then I remembered that my original goal was to distance myself from him, not to get along with each other. I had to keep reminding myself that people like him deserved to spend a life without people like me who were only going to be there for a while before going into the afterlife.

"If you want to know then maybe you should just stalk me and find out." There I go again, suddenly being cold to the guy after a pleasant talk. Sometimes I get caught up in the nice moments, and forget what my original goal was, making my personality seem almost bipolar to some people. But this is for his own good. He seemed like the kind of guy nice enough to care about a stranger whether he'd known them for 5 minutes or not and this was the kind of person that I'd be better off avoiding.

"Alright." Patrick announced. "Let's talk about our fears everyone."

Patrick had this set motto in his head that 'talking about makes you feel better', but I can't say I exactly agree with that completely. Some things are better off bottled up in my opinion.

Phil raised his hand up and Patrick pointed to him.

"So what do you fear, Phillip?"

"Oblivion. Not knowing what's happening around you, could you imagine how terrifying that would be?"

Everyone laughed and I couldn't help it but chuckle, it was certainly something more unusual to fear than death itself. He saw me laughing quietly and I turned away, embarrassed.

After the social group meeting was over I immediately started heading towards the carpark where my mum would be waiting for me. I tried to go as fast as I could so that Phil couldn't catch up to me, but I was a little too slow for that.

He grabbed onto the back of my wheelchair and leaned down on it, breathing heavily.

"Hey… Huff*Huff* Why are you being so cold to me, Dan?"

At first I was a little stunned from him saying my name for the first time, but then I shook it off and straightened myself and avoiding looking at him.

"I'm like a grenade, Phil. One day I'm gonna blow up, and I'm gonna hurt everyone around me." I turned around to stroll off, hoping he'd get the message already but then I felt a hand on my shoulder pulling me back.

"No you're not! What are talking about Dan?"

"Look, you're just wasting your time with me. It's not like I don't like you or anything, but I just think it's better for the both of us if we don't get along too well."

"Dan, are you going yet?" My mum yelled from her car, honking the horn out loud.

"That was my Mum, now I really should get going, Phil." I told him off.

He grabbed my wrist and I looked at him as he pulled the cap off a sharpie with his teeth, scribbling something quickly on my hand. Which, I won't deny, kind of intrigued me a bit. I looked at my palm to see a bunch of numbers written on it.

"If you ever want to talk, or just chat, then use this number to contact me." He says, before he starts pushing me towards my mum's car voluntarily. "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, but you do get some say in who hurts you, Dan."

As soon as we reach the car he leaves me there and waves, walking off into a far direction as I watch his outline disappear from me.

"Friend?" My mum asked as she helped me into the backseat of the car.

_"__No. He's not my friend." _


End file.
